


Friends with Benefits

by orphan_account



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Barebacking, Bottom Sam, M/M, Rough Sex, Stanford Era, Watersports
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-08
Updated: 2016-10-08
Packaged: 2018-08-20 06:16:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,643
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8239049
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Sam's got a kink - and only Brady can fulfill it.





	

“Just trust me, Sam. I’ll take good care of you.” Brady’s words were whispered in the shell of Sam’s ear, igniting a fire-spark of shivers that coursed down his entire spine.

 

“But, Brady, I—“

 

“Sam,” His voice was firm, commanding. Sam closed his mouth and swallowed, his throat clicking audibly against the linoleum. “You wanted this, didn’t you?”

 

Sam nodded, his nostrils flaring against the acrid smell of the men’s room.

 

“Then why do you keep waffling? You know I’ll make it feel great.” Brady’s fingers, long and oh-so-talented, ran through Sam’s hair, tucking it behind his ear. “Get on your knees, Sam.”

 

A hoodie was tossed down seconds before Sam's knees hit the ground and he smiled up gratefully. "What're you planning?" He asked in a voice barely above a whisper.

 

"Exactly what you asked for. Relax. Do you trust me?" Brady was working his belt loose as he spoke, and Sam's eyes drew down to his cock, outlined in the light blue denim.

 

"Of course I do," He whispered. It wasn't like it was their first time, per say. But it was their first time beyond hushed handjobs and half-drunk humping. Their first time _planning_ something, and following through.

 

Sam's mouth opened upon its own accord when Brady pulled his cock out over the top of his boxers.

 

A huffed laugh from above him before silken smooth skin, salty with sweat and dripping with precome, brushed over Sam's bottom lip. It disappeared as quickly as it touched, and Sam leaned forward to chase it, hungry to taste with his tongue not burned by tequila shots.

 

Brady's fingers twisted in his hair, jerking his head back. "Nuh-uh, Sam. Be a good boy if you want your treat."

 

Sam offered the best glare he could from his position. "I'm not your pet, Brady," he snapped - or tried to - but Sam knew he'd be anything Brady wanted, as long as Brady gave him what he needed. That sick, twisting desire that Sam had never found the nerve to fulfill.

 

"You're right. You're not a pet. But from this angle you look a helluva lot like my bitch, wouldn't you agree?" Brady jerked Sam's head left and right as he spoke, and Sam found himself positively purring at the pull.

 

"Yes, Brady. Please--"

 

"Ah-ah, what was that?" Sam took a shuddering breath, dragging his eyes up Brady's body to meet his gaze.

 

"Yes, Sir. Please. I-- I need it."

 

"That's a good boy. Being polite will get you far in life, Winchester."

 

Sam let his eyes flutter shut when Brady released his hair and leaned into the touch of his cock against Sam's cheek.

 

"Last chance to back out, Sam."

 

"No. Do it." The steadiness of Sam's voice surprised even himself.

 

"Take your shirt off then."

 

Sam rushed to comply, tossing his shirt far enough away that it would remain unsoiled in their activities. He looked up again, his cheeks burning hot as the reality of what was about to happen sunk in.

 

Nineteen years old, and begging like some slut. Sam's cock gave a throb of agreement at the thought.

 

"I'm ready."

 

"Patience. Shut your eyes."

 

Sam did as requested, willing his body to go stone still.

 

The first hot splash of piss hit Sam square in the chest, ripping out a breath he hadn't known he'd been holding.

 

He wet his lips, fingers tightening on his denim covered thighs, cock giving a jerk that threatened to break the zipper of his jeans.

 

The stream moved up, strong and steady, over the curve of his Adam's apple - Sam could feel it pooling in the dip of his collarbone, and then over his lips.

 

It was irresistible. Sam let his mouth drop open and leaned forward, chasing Brady's cock as the stream moved down. He felt a hand in his hair again and whimpered.

 

"Please," He begged, letting his eyes open. Brady's smile was patient, his eyes darkened with lust.

 

He complied with Sam's request, aiming his cock at his face once again. Sam sighed through his nose, the bitter tang of piss filling his mouth and running down his chin in rivulets, dirtying him even further.

 

His cock gave another impatient throb. Sam reached to squeeze it, unable to stifle the garbled moan when he realized his own jeans were soaked through with a fluid not his own.

 

A shift of fabric from Brady and the stream was soaking Sam's bangs, forcing him to squeeze his eyes shut a little tighter. And back down, back to his open mouth, where it belonged.

 

This time Brady pulled Sam's head forward, allowing him to wrap his lips around the smooth cock head as the last few drops landed in his mouth.

 

Sam reached up, brushing piss out of his face before opening his eyes, still sucking on the quickly stiffening cock in his mouth. Their gazes met, and Brady offered another smile.

 

"Did you hold your bladder for me like I asked?"

 

Sam nodded, enjoying the taste of Brady's cock too much to pull off.

 

"Prove it."

 

Sam's brows furrowed. Brady pushed his hips forward, cock sinking another few inches into Sam's mouth.

 

"Piss yourself. Right now."

 

Sam's cheeks heated more. This was unplanned - though not unpleasant. He'd spent many nights as a teenager jerking off after wetting himself.

 

He took a breath to relax, trying his best to get started; it was difficult to piss with a regular hard on - this one was ridiculously stiff.

 

The stream started slow, a small damp spot on The inseam of Sam's jeans, and grew from there.

 

Above him, Brady gave a contented moan. "Now that's just pretty."

 

Sam smiled as well as he could. He began to bob his head, unaffected by the wet denim forming to his skin, or the bitter smell clinging to his body. This was heaven.

 

Brady pulled his cock out of Sam's mouth quickly enough that Sam fell forward, landing on his hands. His bladder continued to drain: after holding it for nearly ten hours there was no stopping now.

 

"Up. Jeans off. Bend over the toilet." There was no humor in the commands.

 

Sam rose on shaking legs, wiggling out of his wet jeans and boxers. Piss ran down his leg, stream weakening. Brady laughed. "You really did have to go."

 

Sam leaned over the toilet, spreading his legs wide, before looking back at Brady, smirking a little.

 

"This'll be the first time you've fucked my ass sober," He commented.

 

Brady made a thoughtful face, digging the lube out of his pocket. "I guess it will be. And I'd like it to not be the last."

 

"Thought you were straight unless you were drunk-- Oh God!" Sam shouted as Brady thrust two lube slicked fingers into his hole.

 

"I am - But you have an ass I can't stop thinking about. And you look so damn good covered in my piss - how can I resist?" Brady asked, scissoring his fingers to stretch Sam out.

 

Sam groaned against his own fist, hips jerking back. "Come on," He whined when Brady pressed in a third finger. "You know I can take it rough. Please, just -- Fuck me."

 

Brady leaned over Sam's long body. "I'm not gonna go easy on you, Sam."

 

"I'd be pissed if you did," Sam replied, turning his head to smirk at Brady.

 

The smirk was quickly wiped from his face by a gasp and a shout as Brady forced his cock into Sam's too-tight ass.

 

Sam slumped forward when Brady was as deep as he could get, groaning happily.

 

"You really do like it a little rough," Brady commented, pulling out and pushing in slowly. Sam's back arched, a ragged moan ripped from his throat.

 

Their fucking was quick and dirty, nothing else spoken. No sounds made, except the wet slap of skin as Brady drove in, and the soft mewls of pleasure from behind Sam's hand. Neither would last long, but it didn't matter. This was the icing on the cake for Sam.

 

When Brady drove deep, hips stuttering and cock twitching directly against Sam's prostate, Sam sighed happily. He began to jerk his own cock quickly, using his inner muscles to milk Brady through his orgasm.

 

It was when Brady pulled out and the sudden emptiness floored Sam, that he came, holding back his cries with bite swollen lips.

 

Sam slumped, feeling Brady's arms catch him and lower them both to the ground. He nuzzled against Brady's chest a moment before laughing tiredly. "Thank you."

 

"My pleasure, literally. Not many people are up for that."

 

"Guilty kink," Sam muttered, exhaustion adding lead weight to his bones.

 

"Should get you home - did you bring a change of clothes?"

 

"Mhm, backpack." Sam mumbled, his eyes shut.

 

He heard the drag of his bookbag, and the zipper being undone.

 

"I'd recommend showering quick - you reek." Brady commented as he pulled Sam up to help him get into his clean clothes.

 

"You don't smell like a basket of roses yourself, big guy."

 

"I don't. But I also don't live in a dorm. Unless, you'd like to come home with me?"

 

Sam managed to focus his eyes on Brady. "Wouldn't that defeat the whole secret fuck-buddies but we never talk about it thing?"

 

Brady's lips pouted as he seemed to consider Sam's question.

 

"Yeah," He finally answered. "But I also just did something with you I've only done with one other person in my life. Maybe we should try being more than fuck-buddies... At least until one of us gets a girlfriend."

 

"What, casual dating friends?"

 

Brady shrugged and Sam laughed a little. "Yeah, okay. But you're helping me to your car - my ass is sore."

 

Brady laughed a little, slinging an arm around Sam's waist. "Bet we can make it more sore before midnight," He teased as they walked out of the bathroom.


End file.
